Affirmation
by Cleo Calliope
Summary: The Host attempts to diffuse some misdirected anger on Angel's part.


Affirmation   
  
Title: Affirmation   
Author: Cleo Calliope   
E-mail: [Angelos_Girl@hotmail.com][1]

Rating: PG-13   
Paring: Angel/Host   
Spoilers: none   
Keywords: Minor Angst, Mush   
Distribution: Songs of Mercy, AngelSlash. Anyone else, please ask   
Feedback: Please don't make me beg. Please?   
Summery: The Host attempts to diffuse some misdirected anger on Angel's part. 

Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss, though he doesn't deserve it.   
The title comes from Savage Garden's album of the same name.   
The quote comes from the show 'Forever Knight' owned by   
Tri-Star (I think) and was found on the Cousinly Page at   
[BR>http://www.cs.virginia.edu/~acc2a/fk/cousinly.html][2]

Dedication: This is for Dusk, who begged me to write something   
about these two for her. Here you go, sweetie! And thank you   
SO much for all the encouragement and the beta! You're the best!   
  
  
  
  
  
  


> It had been a long night. Not only had the new bartender called in sick, but half the rest of the staff was out with the same thing. A stomach bug or something like that. While the Host has reason to be thankful that he wasn't susceptible to the human illness, he cursed the fact that it left him alone with the clean up on a Friday night. 
> 
> He was therefore beyond grateful when the last patrons trudged up the stairs and out the door. He waited for the click as the door closed behind them, and was surprised when it didn't come for several moments. Then footsteps started back down the steps. 
> 
> The Host sighed, not turning from where he stood behind the bar. "Sorry, but we're closing," he called out. He put away the last of the clean glasses and finally turned. He already had a pretty good idea of who it was. There weren't many people who would come barging into Caritas as it closed. So, seeing Angel standing in the middle of the room didn't come as a great surprise. 
> 
> "Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding." The Host then noticed Angel's expression and his smile faded. "What's wrong now, sweetie?" 
> 
> "You sent me on a wild goose chase," Angel nearly growled, as he stalked over to the bar. 
> 
> The Host raised an eyebrow. "Oh I did, did I?" 
> 
> "You told me to go look for that Klacktic demon over by the Paramount studios. But while we're over there looking, it killed someone else, clear on the other side of town! We…" 
> 
> "Now hold on there," the Host interrupted. "I told you I was working from gossip here. Is it my fault it wasn't accurate? Maybe it was just old, I don't know. The point is, you didn't sing, mi amigo. So, you're just going to have to take what you get." 
> 
> "You said it came from a reliable source," Angel was struggling to hang onto his anger, and the Host could clearly see how exhausted he was. 
> 
> "Reliable is as reliable does. Even good people, or Trelize demons in this case, make mistakes." The Host grabbed a glass. He sighed inwardly, realizing he was going to have to wash the damn glass all over again, and poured a scotch. "Now, why don't you sit down, have a drink, and tell me what's really bothering you. 'Cause somehow, I'm thinking it isn't just bad info on a case." 
> 
> The Host pushed the scotch across to Angel, who scowled down at it for a moment. Then he grabbed it and downed it in one swallow. The Host winced. That had to have burned. 
> 
> "Better?" he asked. Angel just glared at him. The Host winked back. "Not that the dangerous vibe isn't an attractive one, but since I know you aren't going to do anything in here… it just kind of loses something. So, why don't you drop it and talk, okay?" 
> 
> "A woman died tonight," Angel said, seeming to deflate a little. 
> 
> The Host nodded. "Which certainly isn't a good thing. But at the risk of sounding non-PC, people die every night at the hands - or should I say, claws - of demons in this city. Why's this one different?" 
> 
> Angel shook his head staring down at the bar. Finally, he sat down on one of the barstools and dropped his head into his hands. "I don't know," he whispered. 
> 
> They were silent for a moment, before the Host poured himself a glass of scotch and came around to sit in the barstool next to Angel. 
> 
> "Did you know her?" the Host asked, finally. 
> 
> Angel shook his head, his fingers clenching in his hair. "It's like it doesn't matter… Even when I try to do something, someone is going to die, and there's _nothing_ I can do about it." His voice was rough with emotion, and the Host's heart ached for him. 
> 
> "Ever think that you couldn't stop it because it was just her time to go?" 
> 
> Angel's only answer was a derisive snort, and the truth was the Host couldn't blame him for it. It was a weak excuse, and cold comfort. 
> 
> They fell into silence again, as the Host waited for the real problem to come forward. It wasn't just this new death, though Angel always took it hard when they couldn't save someone. But there was more to this than that. That was a guilt Angel was used to bearing. This was something more. 
> 
> When Angel spoke again, his voice was so soft the Host might have missed it if he hadn't been listening for it. "Wesley and Gunn had wanted to look on the other side of town, near where the woman was killed. But I convinced them to check over by the studios. They both said that it was my fault we weren't there to save her." 
> 
> So that was it. The Host liked Angel's crew for the most part, but there were times he wanted to shake them, or possibly hit them over the head with heavy objects. He doubted they knew that what they said in passing affected Angel the way it did. They were blaming him for an honest mistake… Did they have any idea how much Angel would take it to heart? Probably not. 
> 
> "And they couldn't have gone ahead and checked that other part of town anyway?" he asked. 
> 
> Angel looked up. "What?" 
> 
> The Host sighed. "Angel honey, you might have advocated checking one place over another, but you couldn't have forced them to go if they didn't want to." He held up one hand as Angel opened his mouth to speak, forestalling the objection he knew was coming. "You said it yourself, you convinced them to check over by the studios. That meant that they had come to agree with you. As it turned out, the information you had was wrong – and for that I do apologize, by the way – but you couldn't have known that any more than they could. The mistake was as much theirs as it was yours. I'm sure they're upset about it. They're probably feeling guilty, too. So, they lashed out that you. It's a very human reaction. Not right, but very human. No one's perfect, sweetheart, not even them." 
> 
> The Host stopped, searching Angel's face for a reaction. But Angel just turned away again, and sat hunched over the bar. 
> 
> "If it means anything, I honestly don't think they really meant it." 
> 
> "Doesn't matter," Angel said. "They meant it for the moment when they said it, and that's enough." 
> 
> There was no logic of any kind in that statement, but for once the Host chose not to say so. 
> 
> "I'm sorry," Angel said softly. 
> 
> "What for?" the Host asked in some confusion. 
> 
> "For barging in here blaming you for my mistake." 
> 
> "Angelcakes…" he trailed off, looking for the right words. "I don't mind you coming to me with your problems. It's what I'm here for. Sure, you could have been a little nicer about your entrance… and then there's the timing issue, but let's not get into that. The point is, I'm always here." 
> 
> Angel nodded, but still didn't look up from the bar. The Host found himself watching Angel closely. He still looked tense, despite his defeated posture. With yet another inward sigh the Host took another sip of his drink and placed it on the counter. Angel really needed to relax. 
> 
> The Host reached over and placed his hands on Angel's shoulders, gently pressing in, trying to find the most tense points. Angel stiffened and moved to turn toward the Host. 
> 
> "What are you doing?" His voice was soft, a tinge of uncertainty beneath the exhaustion. 
> 
> The Host's hands stilled, holding him where his was. "Relax already, will you. I swear, you're wound tighter than a two-dollar watch. I'm just giving you a shoulder rub, sweetie. It's okay." After a moment Angel let out a long breath and returned to his former position. "It's not healthy to be this tense all the time. You really need to unbend every once in a while." 
> 
> Angel sighed as the Host hands began to work carefully on the knots in his mussels. Finally, he shook his head. "I can't. The minute I stop paying attention, someone dies. I slacked off on my duty too much when I… during that time. People died then, people I could have… no, _should_ have saved." 
> 
> The Host could feel Angel becoming even more tense under his hands as he got himself worked up again. "Shh," he answered softly. "Just stop thinking about it for the moment, okay? Yeah, you could have done things differently, but there are people alive right now, who wouldn't have been if you hadn't made the choice to go back to your crew. But, honey, in the end, it isn't you who killed those people. You didn't make the demons attack them. You didn't put them be in the wrong place at the wrong time." 
> 
> There was a moment of silence while the Host began to make some progress in softening the iron it seemed Angel's muscles were made of. When was the last time this guy had actually taken it easy for an hour or so? Probably before he was cursed, the Host decided. 
> 
> "I shouldn't have talked Wesley and Gunn into checking by the studios," Angel said finally. 
> 
> The Host had to suppress a groan. "Should've, could've, would've – Angel, it's over. 'You insist on taking responsibility for the actions and emotions of those around you, when they alone are truly responsible.' I heard that on a TV show late one night, and it made me think of you, because it's really what you do. Sure, you've got some stuff hanging over your head, some lives that you have to pay for, but not _everything_ it your fault. And do you know what it lead that guy to?" 
> 
> "What?" 
> 
> "Well actually, I was hoping you knew. I fell asleep before the end of the show. Anyway, not the point. The point is…" 
> 
> "Stop worrying about it, I know," Angel said, interrupting him. "I just can't." 
> 
> "Why not?" 
> 
> "I don't know," Angel answered finally. "I just… don't know." He sounded overwhelmed, but at least, the Host thought, he was beginning to relax a little. Angel's shoulders had gone from iron to something a little softer. Lead maybe. Not great, but a vast improvement. 
> 
> "Try," the Host said. "Think about it this way, if you don't calm down and stop thinking about all the people who have already died, how are you going to have room in that fuzzy little head of yours for the ones you can still save? So, think about something else, something… happy. Or don't think about anything at all. Just let these fingers work their magic." 
> 
> Angel was silent for a long time, and the Host wasn't sure if he was taking his advice or just using the lull in the conversation to brood some more. 
> 
> After a while Angel sighed loudly. "Talk to me," he said. 
> 
> "About what?" 
> 
> "I don't know, just talk to me about something… anything. I'll try not to think about what happened tonight, but to do that I need something else to think about and I'm not coming up with anything." 
> 
> "Talking I can do," the Host said, pleased that Angel was listening to him for once. "So, what to talk about. I doubt that you want to hear about the new songs we added to the lyric machine, though there are a couple that I just _love_. And I don't think you'd be interested in the new suit I bought the other day. It's just to die for though…" 
> 
> "No clothes, please," Angel said. "I get enough of that at work from Cordelia." The Host wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a smile in Angel's voice. Encouraged, he continued. 
> 
> "You sure? It's a great color. Well, alright, if you insist, Mr. Fashion Insensitive." 
> 
> "That's me," Angel replied, and this time the Host was sure there was a smile in there somewhere. 
> 
> "Well, I _could_ go on for the next three hours about how impossible it is to find a halfway decent bartender, but I'm trying to cheer you up, not depress you with my troubles." 
> 
> As they talked, the Host had finally managed to work out the worst of the knots in Angel shoulders and moved on to the back of his neck. Angel stiffened as he did, but then relaxed again, allowing his head to fall forward, giving the Host greater access. The Host knew that to vampires, giving someone access to their neck was the greatest sign of trust, and wasn't often done. He swallowed past the ridiculous lump that rose in his throat. Angel came to him often for information and advice – though he rarely took it. But this was somehow different, more intimate. 
> 
> He cleared his throat; not a road he was ready to go down. "Let me think," the Host continued. "Seen any good movies lately?" 
> 
> "No." 
> 
> "Seen any movies lately at all?" 
> 
> "Not really." 
> 
> "Sweetie, do you even own a TV?" 
> 
> Angel paused for a minute. "No," he admitted finally. "I'd never watch it if I had it, so I just never bothered getting one." 
> 
> "Well, I guess that's a valid reason to not have one. Okay, since you didn't go to see Elton John with me – and I just _know_ we would have had a _fantastic_ time – let's do this instead. Next Friday, barring portals and apocalypses, we're going to go see a movie." 
> 
> "Umm… theaters are kind of… public," Angel objected. 
> 
> "And this coming from the guy who wants to be human someday. It's dark, everyone will be looking up at the screen, not at the back row, which is where we'll be. Come on, after all this advice and a backrub to boot, you owe me." 
> 
> "I thought you didn't mind." Angel was teasing him and the Host knew it, even if he couldn't see Angel's expression. 
> 
> "I don't, you dolt. But if blackmail is what it takes for you to take an evening off and go to the movies with me, then so be it." 
> 
> He continued his work on Angel's neck, and then moved back down to his shoulders. What the guy really needed was an hour or two with a professional masseuse, but this would do for now. 
> 
> "Better?" he asked finally. 
> 
> "Yeah. Yeah, it is," Angel answered, sitting up and rotating his neck. The Host allowed his hands to slip back into his lap a little reluctantly. Angel turned to look at him. "Thanks," he said softly, his expression unreadable. "I… really appreciate it." 
> 
> The Host forced a little laugh. "It's nothing," he said, waving it away. He picked up his scotch and took another drink. "So, about this Friday. You coming? And let me tell you, I'll really be put out if you're not. I'm not used to being turned down this often." He winked, to let Angel know he was joking. He really took things at face value way too often. 
> 
> Angel said nothing for a moment. "Alright," he answered softly. "I do owe you for all the help, and I know I haven't been all that fun to deal with lately." 
> 
> The Host's heart dropped. "Angel, honey, if you really don't want to go that bad, then just say so. You sound like you're agreeing to your own execution here." 
> 
> "Do I?" Angel looked worried. "I didn't mean to, it's just that the people… and… there'll be a lot of them." 
> 
> "So, we'll go to a late show. By midnight, there aren't as many of them. Besides, like I said, it'll be dark and we'll be in the last row. Nothing to worry about, okay?" 
> 
> Angel nodded. "Okay. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but okay." 
> 
> The Host grinned. "Don't worry, we'll have a good time. And after this week, boy do I ever need a night off." 
> 
> "That bad?" Angel asked, sympathetically. 
> 
> "Worse," the Host groaned. "Not only is half my staff out with a stomach bug, but I had five awful Elvis impersonators in one night!" 
> 
> "That's bad." 
> 
> "No kidding. So, you can see, I need to get out and do something as badly as you do. Well," he paused, looking Angel over critically. "Almost as badly." 
> 
> The corner of Angel's mouth twitched upward in an almost-smile. "Gee, thanks." 
> 
> "You're welcome," the Host smiled back. 
> 
> They were still for a moment. Angel was the first to break eye contact. "If it's been that long of a night, I should probably get going and let you get some rest." 
> 
> The Host sighed. Angel was right, but for once he was actually reluctant to see him leave. "Very true," he said, as Angel stood up. 
> 
> "Thanks again, for… putting up with me." Angel looked a little sheepish. 
> 
> "Yeah, well I always was a sucker for a big pair of pretty eyes. I'll see you next Friday around… ten thirty?" 
> 
> "Sure," Angel replied. "Ten thirty will be fine." 
> 
> "Okay. Maybe we can go for coffee or something afterward. Well, coffee for me anyway. Sound good?" 
> 
> Angel nodded, and headed for the door. Halfway there he paused and turned around with slight smile. "You almost make this sound like a date." 
> 
> The Host's heart seemed to stop for a moment. _Not a good idea_, his mind whispered. He pushed the thought away. "Maybe it is," he answered calmly. Then he held his breath while Angel looked at him with that inscrutable expression again. 
> 
> Finally, he nodded. "Alright," he said softly, and then was gone. 
> 
> The Host let out his breath, and a large smile spread across his face. He stood up and gathered to two glasses together, trying to remember what was showing in the theaters at the moment. 
> 
> It suddenly seemed like a very long time until next Friday.   
  
  
  
  
  
The End?   
  
  
  
  
  


   [1]: mailto:Angelos_Girl@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.cs.virginia.edu/~acc2a/fk/cousinly.html



End file.
